Operation Mountain Recovery

by Justine Davis

  “Why would he do such a thing?” She sounded bewildered.

  “Because the psychiatrist needs a psychiatrist?” Brady suggested sourly.

  “But...why?” She shook her head. “Maybe it’s just some drug he was trying, thinking it might help.”

  “Using you as a guinea pig?” Brady’s jaw clenched, and he had to consciously relax it. “That wouldn’t move him up much in my book.”

  “But why else would he do this?”

  “For one thing, it kept you coming to him,” Hayley said.

  “Because you trusted him.” Brady practically spat it out, the thought of how that trust had been abused made him so livid.

  “I know.” She said it as if he’d accused her.

  He stopped in his tracks, his gaze locking on her. “Ash, don’t. This is not your fault. None of it.”

  “He’s right,” Hayley said, gently. “You had no reason not to trust him.”

  “But...he has a lot of patients. And all that money you said he has. Why would he need to make sure I kept coming?”

  “Now that’s an interesting question,” Quinn said.

  Brady was glad the other man sounded calm and collected, because he knew he himself was not. Not by any stretch. Pacing wasn’t enough to keep his growing anger in check. What he needed was about a five-mile run. Uphill. Through the snow. But as he turned to stride back across the great room, he risked another look at Ash. And stopped dead again.

  She was sitting there, looking dazed, and...shivering. Tiny little shudders were visibly rippling through her. In that moment Cutter, who had been quietly on his bed in front of the fireplace, watching intently, got to his feet. He walked over to Ashley, sat at her feet and, as he did whenever he apparently sensed she was on the edge, rested his chin on her knee. She automatically lifted a hand to stroke the dog’s head, and the shivers subsided.

  Nice trick, dog.

  Except it should have been him. He should be the one offering support, comforting her.

  His gut knotted. It was true, the main thing that had held him back was gone now, but that didn’t mean everything was magically resolved. He told himself he didn’t even know who she really was, who she would be without this cloud hanging over her. Neither did she.

  Cutter shifted then, turning his head to look directly at Brady. Then he got up and walked to him, gave his right hand a rather adamant nudge with his nose and then continued over to sit politely by the back door, at first staring at Brady, then shifting his gaze to Ashley, then back again.

  Brady was moving again before he even thought about the absurdity of taking directions from a dog. And when he did think it, he quickly jettisoned the thought; he’d seen enough police K-9s work to know some dogs had extraordinary skills, both mental and physical. Maybe that was it—he just needed to start thinking of Cutter like one of them.

  He walked over to her and held out a hand. “Come with me. We’ll take him outside. Just for a little while, until your mind slows down.”

  She looked up at him, then glanced at Cutter, as if despite her turmoil she’d understood what the dog was doing.

  “Good idea,” Hayley said.

  He saw Ash glance at the other woman, who was giving her an oddly amused smile. And even more oddly, Ash was...blushing? His brow furrowed. Women, he thought, were sometimes impossible to understand.

  But she took his hand.

  * * *

  “Don’t think about it, just for a few minutes. Just look at the snow and try and picture what it’s like here in spring, when everything’s coming back to life.”

  Brady’s voice was soothing, and she felt more of the tension drain away, just as it did when she petted Cutter. She gave an inward laugh, wondering how he’d feel about her comparing him to a dog.

  “What?” he asked, and she realized something must have shown outwardly.

  “Just thinking how...calming you and Cutter are.”

  She saw him glance at the dog, and for a moment she wondered if he really would take offense. But then he was looking back at her and said, with a crooked grin she found endearing, “I’ve been compared to worse.”

  She laughed. And his expression changed.

  “Damn, that sounds good, Ash.”

  She knew what he meant. It was the first time she’d laughed and not felt that sense of confusion afterward, that sense that she had no business laughing, or that people would think her even crazier for laughing in her condition.

  “It feels good,” she admitted. And it felt even better with him right here, on her side, as he’d essentially been since he’d pulled her out of the car on the side of the mountain. She just hadn’t known it. “It’s strange, though. All your pacing, the finger tapping—you shouldn’t be calming. Are you always wound so tight?”

  “Only when something really matters.”

  She studied him for a moment. “Would you tell me...about Liz?”

  He frowned. Then shrugged. “Not my favorite subject. She was my fiancée, but she hated my job and, eventually, me.”

  “She couldn’t handle your work?” She could understand that, Brady risking his life for a job few would.

  “She was...fragile, I guess.” He grimaced. “Although my mother said manipulative. Among other things.”

  “She didn’t like her?”

  He let out a long breath. “She said she didn’t want a partner, or even protection. She wanted a servant.” His mouth twisted wryly. “And she was right.”

  And looking out for her child, no matter how old he was. Like a mother should. Her mind wanted to veer back into the chaos that had descended on her, so she was grateful when Cutter came back from his ramble through the snow, his nose and muzzle decorated with the white stuff.

  “Find something interesting out there?” she crooned to him, gently brushing the snow away. Then she leaned down and kissed the top of the dog’s head.

  “If I go roll in the snow, will you do that for me?” Brady asked. Startled, her gaze shot to his face. “With the kiss somewhere other than the top of my head,” he elaborated.

  “I...” She couldn’t get out another word, because the images that shot through her mind had stolen all her breath. And then it hit her, amid all the roiling of her emotions, that perhaps, just perhaps, her imagination wasn’t out of control. Because maybe now, she had a chance to truly grab at that gold ring. Because if she truly wasn’t going mad...

  Joy at even that chance shot through her, and she said recklessly, “I would kiss you...anywhere.”

  Shock registered on his face, his usual somber expression vanishing, but then it was replaced with something she couldn’t put a name to except...hunger. It took away the breath she’d momentarily regained, and she felt her heartbeat in a way she never had before as it kicked up and began to hammer in her chest.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” Quinn’s voice called from the doorway, “but Ashley, there’s something you need to hear.”

  “Well, I’m sure that’ll be good news,” Brady muttered with more than a touch of sarcasm. When she looked at him rather sharply, he shrugged. “Nothing that interrupted what you just said could be good enough news.”

  She felt her cheeks heat, and her worry about his tone vanished. “Hold that thought,” she whispered.

  When they were back inside, Quinn wasted no time in niceties, for which Ashley was grateful.

  “Dr. Sebastian has gone over your father’s records.”

  Ashley opened her mouth to ask how they’d gotten them so quickly, even after she’d given permission—which she had been sure would clash with her mother, who had once said she never wanted the world to know how bad her father had been—then shut it again, remembering Brady telling her something about not asking too much about how they got things done.

  “According to those records, he was prescribed the same medication you were
supposedly on.”

  “I remember he was taking something. Mom was always reminding him to take his—” Belatedly it hit her. “You think it was the same fake stuff?”

  “Don’t suppose you remember what it looked like?” Quinn asked.

  She shook her head slowly. “No.”

  “Twenty years ago,” Brady said briskly. “And you were only eight.”

  “And scared to death for my daddy,” she whispered. “My God, he did it to him, too, didn’t he?”

  “Can’t be sure, but it’s very possible,” Hayley said. “And if he succeeded once, he’d likely be more willing to try again.”

  “With me.”

  She turned around, rather wildly looking for someplace to sit down before she fell down. Before she could decide, Brady was there, wrapping his arms around her, holding her, enveloping her in his strength and warmth. She trembled, feeling as if she would like to burrow into this safe haven and stay forever.

  “My father wasn’t mentally ill,” she whispered.

  “And neither are you,” Brady said roughly. His tone was underlaid with something else it took her a moment to recognize. Anger. Again. For her.

  He was angry again, on her behalf. And that stopped the reeling of her mind. Then her head came up, as the inevitable conclusion hit her. “If this is right...then he...that bastard is responsible for my father’s death.”

  Brady’s arms tightened around her. When he spoke, his voice was grim. “As responsible as if he’d pulled the trigger himself.”

  Chapter 29

  “Why?” Ash asked, sounding bewildered.

  They’d gone back to the table, in part for the quick coffee access. But also, Brady suspected when Hayley, with help from Cutter—or maybe the other way around—had shepherded them there, because it felt more...official to Ash. More like a meeting to decide what to do rather than just constantly being hit with things she had to absorb and process. So he didn’t protest, just took the chair beside Ash. Which, he noted with a touch of amusement, Cutter seemed to have herded him to.

  “I suppose there are those who just get some twisted, evil need satisfied,” Hayley said as she filled mugs. “But...”

  “Otherwise, follow the money,” Brady said acidly.

  “Usually,” Quinn answered, his tone more mild. But he didn’t have the personal stake in this that Brady had. His future didn’t depend on the outcome.

  And yours does?

  Even as the question rang in his mind, he knew the answer. Because the possibilities were there, glowing in the distance, and it did all depend on what happened, depended on his gut feeling, that instinct he’d had since he’d first looked into frightened but steady green eyes, that Ashley Jordan not only wasn’t mentally ill but was much, much more than she first seemed.

  “But I still don’t understand why he would do this,” Ash said. “I mean, taking extra money for testifying, I sort of get that, that’s simple greed, but what could he possibly get out of...making me believe, and my father believe, we were mentally ill?”

  “Assuming you’re the only ones,” Quinn said.

  Ash’s eyes widened. “You mean he could be doing it to other patients? Making them think...they’re going insane? What a horrible thought.”

  “Indeed,” Hayley agreed.

  “What on earth would he get out of...doing something like that?”

  “That,” Quinn said, sounding just as grim, “would likely be something for Dr. Sebastian to analyze.”

  Brady, who’d fallen silent but had kept pacing, suddenly stopped and looked at Quinn. “Or your Ty.” Quinn gave him a quizzical look. “You said there was money in that offshore account that didn’t correlate to Andler being paid for his court testimony, right?”

  Quinn’s expression went suddenly unreadable. But after a moment he let out a low whistle. “Now that would make him a real piece of work.”

  “Yeah,” Brady muttered.

  “But it would make sense of it.”

  “Yes.” Brady’s voice was beyond grim now, just like he felt.

  “The question is, by who?”

  “The why would be easier to find, I’d think.”

  Quinn nodded. “I’ll get him started.”

  “Someone want to explain to us non–mind readers in the room?” Hayley suggested as the two men finally stopped.

  “Thank you,” Ash muttered.

  Brady grimaced as he looked at them. “You mean those of you who don’t have twisted imaginations?”

  “That, too,” Hayley said, but she smiled at him when she said it.

  Quinn answered. “What Brady wants us to consider is the possibility that Andler isn’t getting paid over and above just for his testimony, but for doing to other patients what he’s done to Ashley and quite possibly her father.”

  Brady saw the horror in Ash’s eyes. They looked more shocked and terrified than when her own life was in danger, when he’d pulled her out of the car on the mountainside. He found that significant, but this was not the time to analyze it.

  Ash whispered. “Why would anybody do that?”

  “Follow the money,” Brady repeated sourly.

  “We are,” Quinn said.

  “You mean people would pay a psychiatrist to convince someone they were crazy?” Ash sounded beyond shocked now.

  “Or convince someone else,” Brady said grimly.

  “You mean...like a court,” Hayley said slowly.

  “Exactly.”

  “Good way to get someone out of the way,” Quinn said.

  “Wait,” Ash said, coming out of her apparent shock enough to think now. “Are you saying someone paid Dr. Andler to do this...to me? Who?”

  Brady thought there was only one obvious answer, but Ash clearly wasn’t there yet. But Quinn was, he noted, seeing the man exchanging a glance with his wife, who then looked at Ash with a world of sympathy in her eyes as she got there, too.

  “Whoever has something to gain,” Brady said bluntly, feeling there was no room for subtlety here, and no amount of careful wording was going to lessen the jolt for her.

  “But—”

  She stopped when Quinn held up a hand. He picked up the laptop and turned it around so Ash could see the screen. “I need you to read that list, see if anything looks even vaguely familiar.”

  “What is it?”

  “Please, Ashley, just read it, then we’ll talk about it.”

  Her brow furrowed, but she began to read. Brady watched her, somewhat cravenly wishing for Quinn to be the one who dropped the final bomb on her, because he didn’t want to do it. He didn’t want her to think of it every time she looked at him.

  There was only one very brief moment when her expression changed, when the furrowed brow cleared and the tiniest smile flickered for an instant. But then she went on, until she reached the end of the page. She looked up at Quinn, slowly shaking her head.

  “I don’t see anything I recognize. What is it?”

  “A list of where the deposits to Dr. Andler’s offshore account came from.”

  Brady let out a low whistle. “I do not want to know how you managed that.”

  “Did he not mention his massively intimidating sister is a financial genius, with contacts all over the world?” Hayley said lightly.

  “And that’s all anyone needs to know,” Quinn put in.

  Brady shelved his curiosity and turned back to Ash. “If you don’t recognize any of these people or entities, what did you react to? You almost smiled there for a second.”

  She looked surprised. That she’d shown a reaction, or that he’d noticed? “I... It was just one of the things listed here is the Amalfi Group, like the Amalfi Coast in Italy.”

  “And that’s significant?”

  “Not to this,” she said. “It’s just that’s my mother’s favorite place. I t
hink her family’s from there, way back. Alexander was originally Alessandro, I think.”

  And here they were. A glance at Quinn told him the other man had reached the same conclusion. He understood why Ash didn’t see it, however. What he suspected was the truth was horrible. He tried to imagine finding out the same thing himself, but couldn’t. He supposed she felt the same way. And he was not looking forward to the moment when she realized.

  But he was dreading the possibility of having to tell her.

  “Let’s look at this from a different angle,” Hayley said, her voice taking on such a gentle tone Brady thought she must be thinking the same thing. “All we truly care about right now is you, so let’s focus on that.”

  Ash gave her a fleeting smile. “Thank you for that.” She glanced at Quinn, who had retrieved the computer and was typing something, then settled on Brady with that vivid green gaze. “All of you.”

  He put a hand over hers where it rested on the table. He felt the little snap he always felt when he touched her but tried to ignore it. It wasn’t easy, not when she looked at him as if she’d felt the same thing.

  “I know this whole thing is terrible, but you need to think, Ash. Who would have something to gain by you being declared incompetent?”

  “You mean financially? No one. I mean, there’s a trust I’ll get access to when I turn thirty, but it’s not huge. Certainly not worth the kind of machinations you’re talking about.”

  “There’s a trust?”

  She nodded. “My father set it up. There was a bit of family money.”

  “You didn’t think to mention this before?” Brady asked, his voice tense.

  Her brow furrowed. “Why would I? It has nothing to do with...anything.”

  Was she really that naive? Or was it just so foreign to her nature that it would never occur to her the lengths people would go to to get their hands on a chunk of change? He guessed it was the latter. Because he knew, down deep, that at her core Ashley Jordan was that basic building block of civilization—a decent human being.